by Al K. Line
"That will be ten pence please Al," said Kyle, a massive smile spread over his face. He was enjoying himself immensely — watching the big guy squirm.
Al lifted his head sheepishly, nodding that he understood the debt he now owed, then slowly but surely a smile spread over his face too.
Everyone burst out laughing again, teasing him about his totally out of character use of bad language.
There actually now was a real swear box, Al had made it from an old, and unfortunately empty, tin of Quality Street chocolates he found in a cupboard. It was full of IOUs, no-one actually having any money on them, or needing it. A better fine really did need to be implemented.
In front of them all was a rather daunting scene, apart from for Cassie, who had performed the miracle that is bread making on numerous occasions — with very varied results, it has to be said. Nigella (that cook off the telly that seems unable to stop smiling) she was not, but she made more good loaves than she did bad, which beat everyone else by a long way. None of the others had a clue how to bake such a wondrous thing.
The sandwich situation was dire though, in fact the bread pretty much ran out after the first few days. Bos Bos and Al were having serious withdrawal symptoms, and both were salivating at the repeated use of the 'b' word. They couldn't wait.
Cassie went over the ropes one more time.
Ven was to be bread-maker for the day, it was about time she learned how to be a proper cook. Or any kind of cook for that matter.
"Right, one pack of yeast, one cup of water—"
"And three cups of flour," everyone chimed.
"Exactly," said Cassie. "And then we begin."
Cassie dissolved the yeast in warm water and then poured the flour, along with salt, into a large mixing bowl, she finally added some of the water.
"Right, hands in Sis, start mixing it all up."
"Ugh, that's gross," said Ven. "It's all sticky on my fingers." She lifted her hands up to show the room, both Al and Kyle stepped back, wide-eyed and worried the goo was contagious.
"Get a grip you little baby, it's just flour and water," said Cassie, pouring in the last of the water. "Keep mixing it, you gotta be quick or it will be shit. Oops, sorry."
"Fine, but I can't see how this can end up being bread, it's all too wet."
"It will change, you'll see."
And it did.
A lot of moaning, a lot of waiting, a lot of kneading, then even more waiting until finally the shaped loaf was placed ceremoniously into the Aga by the big guy. Then Cassie slammed the door to the oven shut.
"Now we wait," said Cassie.
Everyone sighed — again. Bread took ages.
Al paced impatiently like an expectant father, Kyle rubbed Bos Bos' belly and tried not to nick his bed, Ven stared at the oven door suspiciously, and Cassie read a book on being self sufficient with 5 acres by John Seymour.
Diiiiiiiiiiiiing.
The Aga had announced the time was up. It certainly smelled like bread when the door was opened by Al.
"Watch your hands Al," said Cassie, too late, as he stuck them into the oven and grabbed the loaf out, leaving the tray behind.
"Wow," said Al, wide-eyed and practically salivating.
Back slaps, proud congratulations, plus a lot of cutting of cheese ensued.
The bread had been baked — and the bread was good — and the bread was all eaten in half an hour. Another string in the bow for learning how to live without the local supermarket. Even though there were a lot of burned loaves in the future some of them turned out as good as that first one they all made in a manor house in Mid Wales, while zombies decimated the world and many that survived wished they were dead.
Oh, Bos Bos had a sandwich too. No need to worry about Senor Portly.
Fancy a Spot of Torture?
"We can't do this," said Cassie, "it's torture."
"Look, I'm not any happier about this than you are, but we have to know. I don't want to believe they are zombies but the fact is that we don't fucking know. I thought they were, then Mike convinced me they weren't, and now I just don't have a fucking clue," said Ven.
"I've got a confession to make," said Cassie. "That day that we had the motorhome incident? Well, the woman that Mike ran over? She didn't die. Mike and I saw her in the rear-view mirrors, she was all mangled but was still moving. Mike thought he had been wrong and they probably were zombies after all."
"Shit, why didn't you say something?" asked Kyle.
"Because we all had enough on our plates, and we didn't want to upset Ven any more. It was already confusing enough anyway."
"Either way, we simply have to know for sure," said Ven. "It's stupid us not knowing exactly what we are up against, if anyone doesn't like it then they can leave."
To torture or not to torture that is the question. Is it ever justified? Is it torture if they are one of the undead? Would you go to trial if there was anyone left to try you? All of these questions and more were going though everyone's heads, trying to figure out what was right and what was wrong. In a world gone mad there is no black and white, and is merely wanting to know excuse enough for doing some despicable things to the wretched creature that was before them?
It's one of those decisions we all hope we never have to make. It is one thing bashing the head in of a berserker running after you and trying to munch on your brains, quite another to stick sharp objects into a creature that is wretched, gaunt from hunger, and poses no immediate threat.
The unfortunate thing was actually named Bill, a local farmer who had logged into his favorite pornographic site the day the botnet went live. Death by porn was the rather extreme result of his guilty pleasure. He had been infected with the botnet virus and had been roaming the countryside for days.
Having feasted on his mum and dad first, then wandering looking for fresh meat once his bloated and fully extended stomach had taken what foul goodness it could from his macabre meal. He hadn't eaten in days, his hunger was all consuming; he needed his fix. His intelligence was sharpening as his new way of being became the norm, and as the desire for food became more and more a battle for continued existence.
With gaunt features, sharpening under the sped up metabolism that was consuming him and making him insane for flesh, he was a pitiful creature indeed. Feces and urine had stained his clothes, his trousers had solidified with the foul waste. His clothes were tattered and smeared with what once were his loving parents. Lank hair hung over his red raw eyes, manic cries scratching from his bruised and swollen lips. Cuts and bruises from fighting through barbed wire stock proof fencing covered much of his body. One leg ripped open to the bone where he had got caught and jerked like a madman to free himself, until the wire ripped though him and he could continue his hunt for the fresh flesh of human beings.
He had been found by Al roaming at the bottom of the steep land, once again caught in fencing, this time the protection for the small lake at the base of the secluded valley. Al, not concerned for his own safety and seemingly inured to the fear that consumed most people, had hooked him with a shepherd's crook then steered him up to one of the barns. There, he was tied tight with plastic coated wire he found on a shelf, which was already cutting deep into the once workaholic farmer as he fought against his capture.
This was the first zombie that they had encountered since they moved to the house almost a week previously. The rush to barricade the place had been worth it, but the lack of zombie hordes meant that they could have actually been a little more leisurely with their safety precautions. But it just takes one slip to become something else's dinner, so when the apocalypse hits it is always better to be safe than sorry.
Now they had their first encounter it was obviously only a matter of time before there were more. And the likelihood of confrontations increased as live food sources became more scarce in local hamlets, villages and towns.
Ven, Kyle, Cassie, Al, Bos Bos and Tomas were all in the barn, and there were a lot of opinions as to what to do wit
h this thing. Al was for just smashing his head in, Cassie wanted it put out of its misery, Kyle didn't know what the hell he thought, and Ven wanted it destroyed but she also wanted to know if it really was a zombie. Ven therefore wanted to do a few tests first, and they weren't the ones your local GP would approve of.
Ever since Al had come into the kitchen and stated, "I have been capturing zombies today, and am keeping a bad one in the barn," the house had been in turmoil. It very quickly became apparent that everyone apart from Al was going to find dealing with a tied up infected person a lot different to dealing with one when it was fight or die. Sure, Ven had dispatched Kyle's dad, but even then it had been out of love for Kyle, respect for his dad, and because they didn't know if he would try to eat them at some point. This poor creature was tied up and not going anywhere — now Ven wanted answers.
The whole premise of there being real actual zombies went against everything she felt possible. Although she had previously firmly believed it was true (it said it on the telly and the Internet, so it had to be true didn't it?) Mike had convinced her otherwise. So now she simply didn't know what to think. But it was her concern over baby Tomas that was actually driving her to consider sticking things into this wretched soul. She wanted to know if her son could have been undead, or if this was just a behavior issue because of the compromised botnet she had unleashed — time to find out.
Nobody left when Ven gave her ultimatum, so it did seem that everyone wanted to know for good or for worse what they were dealing with.
"Sis, can you please take Tomas out, I don't want him here for this."
"Sure, no problem. Just think about what you're about to do Ven, things have been mental enough already, and whatever you inflict on this poor creature is not something you can take back afterward."
"I know, I don't want to do anything, but we have to know once and for all what we are actually dealing with."
Cassie took baby Tomas from Ven and went out to the front of the barn to keep watch, and to get both the baby and herself away from whatever was going to happen in the gloomy interior where motes of dust caught shards of sunlight piercing the leaky roof, occasionally highlighting the group.
Bill, the unfortunate captive, was tied with plastic wire used for rotary lines. Bound to a large upright beam in the barn. His hands were by his sides and Al had wrapped the wire around his wrists and tied it tight. Then looping the wire through and repeatedly going around his body and the beam. His throat fought against the restraint, and his arms and legs were already swelling around where the wire bit into him as he struggled. Ven grabbed an axe from the wood pile and promptly brought it down with all her might on the captives foot.
It was all too sudden. She gave no warning, no signal that this was what she was about to do. One minute the foot was whole, the next it wasn't.
She gagged as she saw the toes and front of the foot come away from the rest of his body. Kyle and Al both stared amazed at the sight before them. The creature that was Bill bled a few drops and then nothing. No howling pain, no recognition of what had been done to it, and no let up in its attempt to free itself.
"Well, they certainly don't bleed much then, do they," said Kyle, still mesmerized by the fact that he was staring at part of a foot of a person. It was surreal, like it couldn't actually be happening.
"There was not much blood at the library, when I was doing smashing of heads or hurting," said Al.
"Fuck, that was gross," said Ven, "but at least we know they don't bleed like normal people." To Ven it was a partial confirmation that what they were dealing with was an actual zombie, but it wasn't exactly scientific evidence. She exchanged the axe for her sword and stabbed the unfortunate creature through its side with it. Again, a few trickles of blood but nothing more, then the creature continued to struggle as normal.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck. They really are zombies," said Kyle. Staring aghast at the creature as it tried to break free. It didn't let up even after five minutes, merely carried on rabidly trying to break free. Inside, it's internal organs were shutting down, but the hormones and clotting agents running through its body meant that it would carry on functioning, its goal still all consuming, until the heart stopped pumping blood and it could no longer move.
"Shit, it still doesn't mean it isn't just a person though. What if it is just dieing slowly, how would we know?"
"Stab it," said Al. "Stab in the heart. No heart, no blood, no life. If it is alive it will die. If it is dead it will not."
"Fine," said Ven, trying not to think about what she was about to do. The morality of it all was simply too confusing to think about. At what point did it become justified to kill what was basically a defenseless creature now? If she killed it then it was like killing a primitive animal for no other reason than to see what happened. Sure, this thing would eat her baby's brain if let loose, but would a lion not kill when it was hungry? Did that make it any less noble a creature? But knowledge meant survival, and they had to know what they were dealing with. She plunged the sword though what used to be a man named Bill's heart, the point sticking in the beam that was supporting him. And nothing happened.
"Well, fuck me sideways," said Kyle.
Al said nothing out loud. He realized now was not the time to be mentioning the swear box, but he was keeping silent tally and there would be words later, oh yes.
Ten pence, he whispered too quietly for anyone to hear.
"They really are a zombie thing then?" asked Al, not quite sure, just like the rest. They continued to watch, waiting, and hoping, but for what they were not certain. Knowledge, that was what they wanted. Above all else.
"If they don't die when the heart is destroyed then I guess they must be, but I can't see how they—" said Ven, suddenly stopped short as the creature let forth a pitiful death rattle.
"I am thinking this is not a zombie person at all," said Al. "He is now looking like he is not him but is being dead for sure." Al lifted up the head of the thing he had captured and prized open a fat and swollen eyelid. There was no life left in the poor being, his agony was over.
"You killed a person Ven, a mad one but a person," said Kyle. "I don't know what the hell to make of all this, is that a bad thing or is what you did a good thing?"
"Shit Kyle, I don't know. It's too much to take in, first there are zombies, then there aren't, then there are, and now..." she trailed off, still trying to understand the truth.
"He is dead, this is a good thing," said Al. "It is kind to kill when they are like this man was. I would want to be not here any longer, would you not?"
They both nodded, better to be put out of your misery than to lead such a foul existence. They were all lost in their own thoughts. Trying to come to terms with exactly what they were dealing with. There was now no doubt that the creatures could be killed by at least a stab to the heart as well as by destroying the brains. They had no definitive answer as to what was actually going on inside the bodies of the infected, but at least they knew that the creatures could be killed in more than one way. Finally, it settled the debate about whether or not they were zombies — sort of.
Was there an answer?
"So, are they zombies then?" asked Kyle.
"No."
"Yes."
"What! C'mon guys, which is it?" Kyle felt like he was less sure than before.
"Look Kyle, we saw what happened to Paul, he died. He died and then he came back. He had a fit, he went into shock, then he stopped being Paul. And he came back and was a thing, just a thing that wanted to eat his own baby's brains. A zombie." Ven felt she had her answer.
"Yeah, but if they can be killed then they aren't zombies, right?" Kyle's head was throbbing, he needed a lie down.
"It's not that simple is it? Your proper zombie, the ones in the movies, you could kill them couldn't you? You bashed in the heads and they died. Even though they were already undead? And was any of it ever explained? No. Who knew what was going on inside? If they walked and shat and fucking ate then i
nside of them things must have been working. They couldn't swallow or walk if their brains weren't working, and their heart had to be pumping too. All that shit was always quickly skipped over. Anyway, this is real life, not some dodgy film."
Kyle thought about it, Al didn't. For Al the answer was simple, people were no longer who they had been and if they tried to hurt him or his friends he would kill them. It was good to know that you could stop them by damaging the heart as well as the brain, but he left the philosophical issues to the others. No point thinking about something you cannot find an answer too.
"So, if we saw Paul die, just like all these other infected people must have done, then come back as something different, then they are zombies. Just ones that we actually know a bit about 'cause it is happening for real." Ven was getting manic, her voice rising and her arms flailing about wildly. Both Kyle and Al had taken a few unconscious steps back. Always keep a wide berth when a woman with a sword in hand begins to gesticulate wildly — top tip of the day.
And on the debate went.
When is a zombie not a zombie?
What actually went on inside zombies in movies and TV shows?
And does it count if the heart is how you destroy a zombie, or is that just a bit of a bonus?
Cassie looked on silently from the entrance to the barn. She shielded Tomas' eyes and whispered soothingly to the innocent little man.
What she had witnessed was just another nail in the coffin in terms of hope for the world she now found herself in.
She wept silently at the loss of innocence for them all.
###
"Fine," said Kyle, some time later when they were all in the kitchen. "Let's call them zombies if it makes you feel better. I'm just not sure that's the right word."
"How about The Hungry?" said Cassie. "Or The Unfortunate?"
"It's us that are bloody unfortunate," muttered Kyle under his breath.
"What about The Munchers?" ventured Cassie again.
"Makes them sound like a fucking '60s band," said Ven. "Brain Eaters and The Munchers, coming soon to a venue near you."